Wednesday, August 8, 2012


"You want to see a movie? Or go for a walk?" I asked.
"It's the summer. Walk. At the beach," she replied.

So I picked her up after spending (some very difficult) time with my dad. (I don't want to talk about it.)
(But, man. THAT was crappy.)

We took the red pick up truck to Crescent, and just as we were parking, the rain started falling.
"We have lots to talk about. How about it we hang out in a restaurant ... I could be persuaded to have a salad," she suggested.

We talked.
She let me unload about my (most recent and gross) experiences with dad.
And then we moved on, and talked about my unemployedness, inevitable homelessness, my broken truck-edness, my empty nest, and how, really, once Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennett got married, I lost interest in their story. Reading about their home, their kids, her sisters, his estate? Is a bit yawn-ish for me. I guess I need that brand-new-relationship-tension in a story to keep me reading. (Mind you, I'm only 1/4 in. It could still get hot-flashy ... (fingers crossed).

Then, she talked about, well, how everything in her life is kinda opposite of mine.
It's a good thing I'm not the  jealous type.

We noticed the restaurant was awfully quiet, and asked when they were closing.
"Half hour ago."
Embarrassed, we asked for our bills. (You know, if they'd brought us our bills earlier, and mentioned they were getting ready to close, we would have left. WITH NO HARD FEELINGS. Why do some restaurants leave you sitting there like fools?)

Anyway, we walked toward the beach, and it was glowing. The air was snappy. People were lined up along the shore, excited.

As we got closer, we realized they were watching a lightning show in the distance. And so we watched too. It was mesmerizing. And then it got closer and closer. And the lightning went from forked to sheet and it lit up the entire beach. And it was amazing. And spectacular. And wonderful. And unlike any lightning show I'd ever seen in my entire 51 years on this earth. And it went on and on. For hours. We just stood there, awestruck. There was thunder too. Deep, rumbling thunder, that exploded in your chest. Thunder that erupted at the same time as when the lightning stretched across the sky and plunged into the ground in front of us.

Just down the beach from us, a large group of family and friends had gathered to say a final goodbye to a loved one. What a backdrop they had. Wow.

And then, in the midst of the storm, they released four sky lanterns.
Oh My Goodness. SO MAGICAL.

In case you didn't see Tangled, Sky Lanterns, look like this in the movies:

And like this in real life:

They 'only' released four, but it was still pretty amazing. If you need to know more about these floating fireballs, check out this website.

Anyway, my evening, the one that started so heavy and sad? Ended up feeling magical. 
And God-Moment-y. 

I stood there, on that beach, and gazed at an unobstructed view of the massive sky above me, and watched God display his power, his creativity, his command of the earth, for over two hours. Sandra may have been a little nervous about our safety. I agreed that maybe she wouldn't want to stand too close to me; I'm a bit of a magnet for 'unfortunate incidents' these days... and getting hit by lightning wouldn't have surprised me. 

Three FIVE things I'm thankful for:

1. Storms that don't include rain. 
2. Friends who listen.
3. Another showing tomorrow. Someone will eventually like it.
4. Late night texts, instant messages and emails with my kids. 
5. Random daily devotional that seems tailor-fit for me:

"When we submit to God's plans, we can trust our desires. Our assignment is found at the intersection of God's plan and our pleasures. What do you love to do? What brings you joy? What gives you a sense of satisfaction? 

The longings of your heart, then, are not incidental; they are critical messages. The desires of your heart are not to be ignored; they are to be consulted. As the wind turns the weather vane, so God uses your passions to turn your life. God is too gracious to ask you to do something you hate.


Psalm 119:105
Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path.

Psalm 119:105
Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path.

Psalm 119:105
Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path.

Psalm 119:105
Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path.

Psalm 119:105
Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path.

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